"Here, behave yourself," she said. "The idea of one who had plumed himself on his heroic self-sacrifice acting so like an ordinary mortal! You have had more kisses now than you ought in a week. If we are to be so poor, we ought to begin practising economy at once." "You are the most beautiful and spicy compound that nature ever fashioned," he exultingly replied, holding her off, devouring her with his eyes. "I plainly foresee that you can fill the poorest little home with light and music." "Yes, I warn you, before it's too late, that I can never become a solemn, ghostly sort of a missionary." "O, it's too late now, I assure you," he said: "my mind is made up." "So is mine,--that you shall take a long nap, while I mount guard." "Nap, indeed!" he said, indignantly. "When the gates of pearl bang after one with their musical clangor, and shut out forever the misery of earth, will one's first impulse on the threshold of heaven be to take a nap?" "What extravagant language! You ministers talk much too familiarly of heaven, and such things." "No, indeed, Lottie, dear! the more familiar the thought of heaven is to us, the better. You shall have a good home there, if a very humble one here. But do you realize how much you are giving up?" "Yes," she said, ruefully, "the worst heartache I ever had. I don't believe you felt half so badly as I did." "But when the hard and prosaic life comes, with its daily cares and weary burdens, are you sure that you will not regret your action?--are you sure that you will not wish yourself again the queenly belle, with the world at your feet?"